Turn and Face the Strange: Twelve and Clara snippets
by paynesgrey
Summary: Clara realizes she has to get to know the Doctor all over again; loving him, however, is a fixed point in time. These are unrelated snippets of the relationship between the Doctor (12) and Clara.
1. Bait

AN: Written for the "slate gray" prompt for the Summer Mini Challenge.

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><p><span>Bait<span>

Clara Oswald entered the TARDIS with a tired sigh. She pushed open the door, slid inside without a greeting and walked on numb feet toward the first soft thing she saw: a black velvet sofa, which hadn't been in the control room before, but she wasn't surprised. (The Doctor was still adding and subtracting things from his control room, so maybe the items were changing to fit the purpose, whatever that was at whenever time.)

She collapsed onto the soft cushions with a heavy sigh, pulled a book from sticking into her back, and stared up at the ceiling of slate gray metals and blinking lights. Her muscles and nerves ached from a rough day at school, and she was spent from keeping her students in line; even drinks with Danny didn't seem appealing to her right now.

Her eyes threatened to close from exhaustion, but a niggling scratching sound prevented her slumber.

The Doctor was scribbling away on his chalkboard, and though he probably, most definitely, noticed her arrival, he made a point to ignore her - or at least act like he was too preoccupied by something more important on his blackboard than to say anything to her.

"Hello, what have you got on your mind this time, Doctor?" Clara yelled at him. He was scribbling about on the other side of the console room, and he made a noise of acknowledgement before mumbling something at her.

"Your family timeline, from Orson Pink to you," the Doctor said.

"Eh!" Clara said, suddenly not so exhausted as before and feeling instantly cross that he'd meddle in her future when she specifically told him not to. "I said _no_, Doctor, really I don't want to know! You're as bad as Strax. Wait, you're worse, you Timelord…" she rambled, and she looked up at him and made her way across the room.

When she came to his side, she looked at his chalkboard and only saw scribbling that had nothing to do with her or Orson, or any of the Pinks.

She felt relieved, but also confused. Still cross too. She furrowed her brow at him.

He turned to her, containing his excitement at her reaction in his stoic frame. He grinned at her, and she took notice of the ancient lines that formed, wrinkles of wisdom and mischief. "Got you off that couch, didn't I? No napping in the TARDIS, at least, not now. We have too many important things to do."

Clara didn't appreciate the fatherly tone again. She scowled. "What are you doing, then?"

He waved his hands about, long, kinetic fingers that could create their own language. "Research, notes and clues - scribbles on T_he Promised Land_. I'm trying to cross-reference legends, myths and belief systems with all alien life forms that I know, of course, see if there's any similarity."

"Anything?" Clara asked curiously, becoming rather invigorated that he was pursuing this instead of writing it off as another random superstition.

"No. Lots of loose ends. Some connections, but nothing catching anything as of yet," he said, now nibbling on his fingernails. She noticed this was a new trait of his, new in the sense to this body.

"Well, I'm sure that we'll find something. Danger seems to stalk us," Clara said, and the Doctor turned to her with fierce eyes. He pointed, as if she was onto something - or at least on the same path as his own wild thoughts.

"That's why it's vital you get your energy back, Clara. We have important things to do," he said with that deep Scottish lilt. "First, we figure out more about the woman who wants to keep us together."

"The woman in the shop?" she suggested, and he nodded. "She wasn't who you thought she was, now was she?"

Clara instantly saw sadness color his expression. "No," he said simply, and instantly, the emotion was erased away - as easily as his chalk drawings.

"Then that means…"

"We draw her out," he said. "You and I, Clara, are going to offer ourselves as bait…"

"To what?" she asked, sounding suddenly horrified.

"To...whatever forces are trying to keep us together. To those who seek _The Promised Land_," the Doctor said, beaming with his own brilliance. He stored the chalk away in the inner red lining pocket of his coat and set off for the console, preparing the TARDIS for their next destination.

Clara looked at him warily, "Doctor…"

"Mmmm?" he said, not looking at her directly.

"I think I'm going to take that nap now," Clara said, and he stopped, met her eyes, and she knew he was going to make some remark that was probably going to set her off.

"Long night? Another date?" he said, fulfilling all her assumptions about his attitude.

She pursed her lips and held back all the barbs she wanted to throw at him. She pointed at him. "Just remember, Doctor, _hobby_…" she stressed.

"Come on then, Clara, I need you in top shape for your hobby," he said, and before he'd even given her his blessing, she's found a cozy spot on his sofa. Her temper faded away, and the noises and movement of the TARDIS cooled her fears. She gave into the exhaustion of her day, and she felt safe with the Doctor close to her, piloting his TARDIS.

She let out another content sigh, and the hum of the TARDIS seemed to assure her she needn't worry about her dark dreams.

Clara was well cared for, and with the Doctor by her side, even the perils that surely awaited them in the future wouldn't drive her away.


	2. Soothe

AN: Written for the "secret" prompt for the Summer Mini Challenge.

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><p><span>Soothe<span>

_Head cracking like an egg, he reaches out to a familiar dream. A kind female touch encases him, maybe the bright woman in the copper-colored moon, tracing her delicate fingers through his hair and singing him a lullaby. He's a scared boy who hides in the darkest shadows of the barn, but she calls him out with her soothing melody, dispelling his fears and erasing his shame._

_He likes the way her voice sounds against his ears. Is she an alien? Well, she comes from a moon, so naturally… Fear trembles out of him and he feels satiated and strong. Her fingers brush through his short strands, over and over again, moving with the rhythm of her song. _

'_Please...Never leave me,' he thinks. 'Never leave my side. Stay as my companion through the fearsome dark and into the spiraling white pulses of time.'_

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><p>"Stop fussing," she ordered him, holding his fidgeting head over her lap. He settled, begrudgingly of course, and her gave her a fierce look through closed eyes.<p>

"Ow," he complained, "I don't do resting in laps. This is...ahh…" He cringes. "I'm against something right now and I'm not really sure what it is."

"Course not. You're in too much pain to narrow down a solid complaint; now rest easy," Clara said, her voice going softer after the scolding. "How did you manage to get a migraine? Shouldn't your Timelord genes be immune to such things?"

"Gratuitous amounts of… air pollution, royal blowhards, obnoxious pudding-brain soldiers, and shrieking idiots," the Doctor droned, wincing between angry words.

Clara sighed heavily. "Tragic. You went meddling about people and planets without your carer again. How did you manage to leave such a situation without your head exploding, Doctor?"

"Good question," he said quickly. "And don't banter. It isn't helping. Ah!" he complained, as she began to rub her fingers on his temple in circular motions, slow and soothing. She fanned her fingers through his short silver hair, and his protests turned into a growling lull.

"Shouldn't bother… Clara. I just need to lie down alone, let the TARDIS take over… maybe I'll have a dip in the pool," he muttered.

"Without me? That's rude," she said, almost wishing they would go for a swim. She missed the TARDIS pool, and it was getting colder by her again. Her students were already wearing sweaters and wool scarves. Snow showers were forecasted for the coming days, but thankfully, the Doctor whisked her away - yet he'd been grumpier than usual. She wouldn't have noticed much of a difference in his mood if he hadn't doubled over in sharp pain, and then in added misery, banged his poor head on the center console. He'd been clumsy before, but not in this new form. Something was definitely wrong.

She'd never heard the Doctor swear like that afterward either.

Distressed, she'd ran to his side and managed to get him onto her lap as they settled onto a gray chaise next to his bookshelf. She didn't know where the chaise had come from, but she suspected the TARDIS was behind the added help.

"Easy," she whispered, as his fidgeting decreased and he surrendered to her touch. He must have been in serious pain because normally, the Doctor wouldn't allow all this attention and petting, and though she colored to even think of it as "petting", she did admit she missed this contact with him. She'd had more of this when he'd wore his younger face, and she'd delighted in memories of him hugging her and twirling her around the TARDIS. Lately, the Doctor held her hand on the rare instance she needed comfort - or to be yanked out of a dangerous situation that he'd put her in.

She heard light, steady breathing pass through his lips, and she traced fingers through his hair and down the lines of his face, taking note of the prominence and display of his wiser age. Sighing, she reminded herself that the same person who twirled her happily in the TARDIS was still the one in her lap, though grumpier and older, he was _alive_ - and someday she hoped he'd reveal the secret on why he'd once had a young face for a woman like her, and now he had yanked the assumptions and fanciful regard away, replacing it all with seriousness and stoic reserve.

"Clara…" He whispered her name as he slept, and the light sound of his voice warmed her heart. She gazed at his face, glowing peacefully without a trace of complaint or brooding madness. Oh, he wasn't always solemn and serious, she noted, and his new humor and pensive demeanor were growing on her.

_He's still the Doctor, _she thought with a smile. _I'm still his impossible girl. _

Strange relief assailed her as she thought of it. It wasn't like he had some other companion that he bothered, fitting his TARDIS in _her_ bedroom or whisking _her_ away after bad dates to meet historical figures or visit glorious alien worlds.

She continued to absently run her fingers through his hair lightly as he slept. Clara wondered if she should move to let him settle on the couch alone. She hated to think of what he'd yell about when he'd realized he'd fallen asleep on her lap, or that she'd massaged away the migraine that left him completely helpless to her touch.

Clara grinned. _Nah,_ she thought. She wasn't going anywhere. Where was the fun in letting the Doctor always get his way and be comfortable? He didn't have a vote in the hugging, so he didn't have a vote in her affection as well.

He could insist to her that he wasn't her boyfriend, and well, he was _right._

Boyfriends were commonplace and boring compared to the Doctor. Most women had boyfriends - _silly_ boyfriends that sent roses and bought dinner and then awkwardly took them to bed.

Not all woman had a Doctor. Not all women could brag to her girlfriends that hey, my _Doctor _shows me the stars whenever I want him to. Can your silly boyfriends do that?

Clara grinned again, and she looked down and saw the Doctor make a strange, sour face in his sleep. She drew her hand away softly and suppressed a giggle.

She wondered how deeply that telepathic contact could travel into his subconscious; though, she most certainly guessed that even in his sleep, the Doctor was probably cross with her for all of this.

He'd just loudly hold it against her once he was awake.

END


	3. Love

Written for the "love" prompt for the Summer Mini Challenge.

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><p><span>Love<span>

"What are you wearing? No, no, no, you can't wear that where we're going!" the Doctor yelled after Clara the moment she walked through the TARDIS door.

"Sorry. Isn't that what I should be saying to you?" And for a moment there, Clara wondered if the Doctor was reading her mind. She stopped dead in her tracks, looked him over, and couldn't figure out if she was intrigued or gobsmacked. Or a little bit of both.

"Right, starting in the middle of again. Clara, get dressed in this…" He threw her a similar attire in a folded elastic bundle. "We're going to a planet completely submerged in water."

"Is that why you're wearing a wet suit?" she asked with a laugh. She let her eyes travel all over his body slowly, just to make him feel uncomfortable - and it was apparently working. _Not bad_, she thought. He was older looking, yes, but that fit, thin frame molded into that shiny, black wet suit (more like a cat suit) was not all that horrible to look at. Quite the opposite. And the way he moved about in it…

He cleared his throat.

She shook her head. "Sorry, have to get used to you in a get-up like that."

"It's not a get-up; it's standard attire necessary for where we're traveling. If we don't dress like this we will be unable to visit them or even survive in their world. Plus, we mustn't insult the locals, Clara," he said, becoming grumpier every second she stared at him in that suit. "Now, chop, chop, we need to get moving. Get dressed."

"Doctor," she asked, trying to keep the mirth out of her tone. "Why are we even visiting the place if we have to go through all this trouble?"

The Doctor smiled at her, forgetting his impatience with her questions and feeling invigorated with the new mission at hand. "_We,_ Clara, are going to rescue an octopus princess."

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><p>Clara did not like wearing the wet suit, but since the Doctor had to be uncomfortable in one as well, she felt it was worth it.<p>

"Why are we going to this planet anyway? You just don't pop into a planet knowing an octopus princess needs to be rescued," Clara said.

"The king of Merdonia and I go way back. Took my granddaughter there once. They really are quite a joyful, peaceful bunch. It's the Saldonians you have to watch out for," the Doctor explained, though Clara noticed he really didn't explain anything. As usual.

"Okay, back up. Merdonia and Saldonians?" she asked.

He sighed. "The watery planet we are visiting is called Donia. They have two aquatic factions that populate the world. The Saldonians inhabit the southern hemisphere, and the Merdonians are in the North. While I was there, I visited the Northern part, and found the people there quite lovely."

"Of course you did."

"While we were there, they told us about the rival Saldonians, who are their enemies. They mostly quarrel and have petty squabbles from time to time, and their peace treaty was very flimsy. They were sure one day they'd be at war, and the whole planet would just be in chaos. I tried to be a bridge between their hemispheres, revised their treaty, and brought peace. Well, it was Susan mostly who wrote it up. She was much better at such things than I was; clever girl."

"So then they call you up again and something's gone amiss, I'm guessing? The peace treaty fell through?" Clara asked.

The Doctor nodded. "They thought they'd take it one further by marrying off the Merdonian princess to the Saldonian prince and finally bringing their hemispheres together. Think of it, Clara! An age old hatred solved by simple arranged marriage."

"If it was love, things may be different."

"Well, that's the problem. It is _love_," the Doctor said, meeting her gaze.

"But you said it was arranged," Clara replied.

"Well, the marriage treaty is, yes, but the princess has another love in mind, and the Saldonian prince found out about it," the Doctor explained.

"Ah, so she probably loves someone else, a Merdonian one right?"

"If only it were that simple!" he said. "The princess is in love with the _other_ Saldonian brother." He waved his hand about, seemingly bored with the story already, but he continued for her sake. "So of course, the other brother is trying to fight for her hand, and now the Saldonians won't let the princess return home. She is their prisoner, and now, we have to get her back."

"Hang on, we're going to bring her back and separate her from her true love? I don't know if I want to do that, Doctor," Clara said.

"Clara, forget about love," he stressed. "A whole planet's future is at stake!"

"Wow, I can't believe you just said that," she said, meeting his serious eyes. She peered closely at him, trying to find some recognition of the happy-go-lucky Doctor she'd once traveled with that boasted about helping people and fighting for what was right. She even though he'd been a champion of other people's love before. She'd seen it, but the Doctor now could barely grasp the concept of it.

If he couldn't see the affection and strength in someone else's love, what did he think of his relationship with her? Why did he even need her?

"Come on, we've landed." He threw a shapely, deep sea helmet at her, and he switched on the oxygen setting and showed her how work the controls. She felt him not-so-gently pop it on her head and then leave it for her to get comfortable. He'd put on his own helmet in a similar rough fashion and then headed toward the door. He turned back to her, and Clara had to put her wandering thoughts aside to meet whatever was outside the TARDIS door. "Ready?"

She looked at him through the blue light inside her helmet and nodded. The thrill of excitement moved her muscles forward, but her worry toward the Doctor was lingering deep within her bones.

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><p>Clara didn't really have time to appreciate swimming with the Doctor on this watery planet, but she found herself enjoying the lovely scenery in a few moments on the way to the king of Merdonia's palace.<p>

Donia was a beautiful planet, full of rich and robust marine culture that she'd never seen before. The fish and coral were vibrant, and strange neon watery auroras floated about randomly through the seascape. She and the Doctor even swam through one, and she was entranced at the way purple and pink pulses of tiny lights surrounded her and sparkled like neon sugar around her body.

When they'd met the king, he wasn't fazed at all by the Doctor's new body and face, and immediately they assumed Clara was his granddaughter Susan, and the Doctor didn't correct him. Many people thanked her for her help with their treaty, and she didn't know what to say.

The Doctor gave a sour look that she assumed meant she had to go along with it. So, she nodded and smiled through her deep sea helmet whenever any of the Merdonians approached her.

She was more concerned by their alien appearance. They weren't exactly like any octopi she'd known back at earth, but they had that general biology. Mostly, they were mermaid-like, with humanoid faces and torsos, but with tentacles for arms, legs and even on tops of their heads. Some of the tentacles were multicolored throughout each separate entity, and she found that some of it was even a fashion statement among their kind.

The Doctor mostly ignored her at his side as he took in the situation from the king and all his advisers. He nodded a lot, spoke excitedly with his hands, but he didn't discuss any concrete plans on how to save their princess. Once he'd somehow gained their confidence that he had everything under control, he pulled Clara aside to the a private part in the watery castle and spoke to her through the mic system in the helmets.

"Right, so we're going to rescue the princess."

"I got that already. So… you don't have a plan," she said.

He looked offended through the blue light of the helmet. "Of course I do."

"And that is…?"

"We're going to convince the Saldonians that the marriage must still take place," the Doctor said. "But… with the brother she loves."

Clara's heart swelled with warmth. She couldn't believe that he'd changed his mind about their love!

"Doctor! I'm surprised; that's a brilliant idea," Clara encouraged.

"Yes, well, the king of Merdonia doesn't care which brother she marries, as long as he's from Saldonia," he said, a little frazzled by her compliment.

"Well, right, that makes sense," Clara said. "Should be easy, yes?"

"Not exactly. Not when both Saldonia brothers are in love with her," he said.

"Oh dear," Clara said. "This princess must be really smashing."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "If her reputation precedes her… Now, let's go. We have an emissary escort waiting for us."

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><p>Their escorted trip into Saldonia was surprisingly tame. Clara was sure, knowing their luck with alien worlds, that she'd get shot at, or they'd get taken prisoner, or someone nefarious would separate them, most likely to either kill or have their way with her.<p>

Instead, they swam next to their two Merdonian escorts in quiet waters, and met the sour faces of the Saldonian guards, whom didn't look that much different than their rivals - with tentacles in different places and different colors, but not much else. They took them to the Saldonian castle where the king greeted the Doctor much the same as the Merdonian king. He was smiling, gracious and thought Clara was Susan.

The Doctor immediately laid out the terms of the Merdonian king. The Saldonian king didn't seem to appreciate the Doctor's tone, and he became very heated toward the end of the conversation. Clara put a hand on the Doctor's arm, and she said, "Grandfather, maybe I can have a go at it?"

The Doctor looked surprised she called him "grandfather" so Clara smiled demurely at him, which only made his eyebrows look crosser.

"Your highness, you are a kind and reasonable ruler to your people. This is only minor setback to a lasting peace the you both wisely brought about yourselves. This is a new age in solidarity in your kingdoms; surely there's some way to compromise the princess and both princes' intentions?" Clara suggested, and the king looked taken aback. He tapped his chin with three different small tentacles.

"I see, Susan, as usual you are wise as well as empathic," he said, and shot the Doctor an annoyed glance. "There is something within our ancient laws that allows for a royal to take two husbands or wives if they choose. But to give a Merdonian this kind of power…"

"Yes!" called a screechy voice behind them. Clara turned and saw a lovely, purple colored entity swim toward them with two other male octopi following behind her, glaring at each other. Clara was right to assume this was the infamous octopus princess. Clara had to admit she kind of was fetching - for a fish person. "I will marry them both!"

"The problem here, my dear, is that you're Merdonian; this is Saldonian law. I would have no problem if my son were to choose two Merdonian females as his brides, but the other way around…"

"Decrease her authority then," Clara suggested, and the king, advisers, and princes all looked at her shocked. "You...can split the odds of ruler ship. The princess doesn't have final say for Saldonia. She must have both the princes' blessing to make any rulings in Saldonia. If the princes' want to change something, they can overrule her for Saldonia only. Merdonia affairs is the only thing she has ultimate say over, but only if one of the princes agrees with her. A 2/3rds majority for Merdonia, and Saldonia must have at least a full majority or both the princes' agreement - thus making it still a 2/3rds majority."

The king seemed to think about it at length. The princes looked at each other with furrowed scaly brows, and Clara met the Doctor's bored expression. He was already distracted by something else, and he seemed even more out of touch with the conversation when another neon aurora floated around his head.

"I'm not sure Merdonia will go for it," the king said hesitating. "Miss Susan, would you care to help us with the treaty again?"

Clara nodded, trying to hold back the laugh. "Sure. No problem," she said, and she nudged the Doctor lightly in the chest. "If Grandfather doesn't mind."

He huffed at her, and Clara grinned back at the king. "Where do we start?" The king of Saldonia led her off with the princess, princes and his advisers ;Clara noticed this time, the Doctor was the one who trailed behind them all, seemingly left out of the process once again.

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><p>"Well, that was fun," Clara said, bouncing around the console room of the TARDIS. The Doctor was mostly quiet, but he looked relieved to be out of that wetsuit. She skipped up next to him, leaned on her elbows and grinned up at him. "You didn't seem to think so though, even though you let them think I was Susan; which you planned and ultimately knew would help appease them again."<p>

"I don't know how Susan convinced them last time, and I really don't understand how you convinced them, but I had some idea using their past appreciation for Susan would help the process," the Doctor said. "Both hemispheres of Donia will have peace. That's good enough."

"And an octopus princess gets two true loves instead of one," Clara said. "Lucky gal."

"Still don't understand it," the Doctor said.

"What? Love? Come on, Doctor, after all the companions you'd had, you don't believe in loving more than one person?" she said, eying him cautiously.

"It was never like that," he said quietly. "I've gotten close." Clara paused, and she wondered if that was best she'd get to a true confession from him. He met her eyes. "And it's always been different."

"Different bodies, different personalities," Clara said, squeezing his arm. She was surprised he didn't swat her away or make a fuss about the touching. "I get it. But it's still _you_, so the feelings must still be there inside."

He looked away, staring down at the lights on the baubles and switches of his console. "Yes."

Clara smiled. "That's a relief."

"Why is that?" he asked, meeting her eyes slowly.

"Because you make me wonder…" she said softly.

"Are we talking about all my companions, or…"

"Yes, Doctor, and then no," Clara answered quickly. She crossed her arms and stepped away.

She didn't know how much she wanted to pursue this conversation with him. Obviously, their fanciful affection from his last lifetime still burdened him. He'd taken unnecessary regret in flirting and pursuing her. She knew that he'd mostly sought her out because of the echos, but Clara knew there was more to it. The Doctor had once loved her, and she would never deny that she loved him too. Something like that couldn't just change in a flash. Like the princess, she knew it was possible to love two people, even if the Doctor was still just _one_ with different faces.

"Take me back to my apartment, yeah? I made some apple tarts before you took me off to Donia." She stood by the door. "Want some?"

"I don't know if I like apple tarts," he said begrudgingly.

"But you like apples now," Clara said, and she pointed at him. "And I made them for you, so you have to eat it. No complaints."

He managed a small smile, and he locked his gaze with hers. She watched him pilot the TARDIS effortlessly, still returning glances at her.

"And Doctor?" she said, and he gave her absolute attention. "If you don't like apple tarts, maybe you can learn to love them again?"

His smile disappeared and she knew he was weighing the meaning of her words. The TARDIS stopped, and she turned from his stare through the door to her kitchen. The Doctor followed her out, and the scent of apples filled their senses.

"Yes, apple tarts, I think I liked them once," the Doctor said, and Clara hooked her arm into his and drew him into her kitchen.

"Then let me help you remember," she said, and she leaned closer to him, and he let her fit her side against his. Without complaint, the Doctor let Clara lead him to a seat in her kitchen. When she brought out the tarts on a plate for them, she winked at him.

"And I promise, Doctor, that these are much better than my souffles."

END


	4. Cloak

AN: Written for the "dubiously" prompt for the summer mini challenge on LJ.

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><p><span>Cloak<span>

Clara often wonders if the Doctor feels dirty when he lies to her, when he refuses to see her and yet still yearns for her.

Early on, of course, she has doubts about him; she wonders if he's the same person, the one who wore the bow tie and kissed the top of her head to comfort her and ease her fears.

_There is no doubt now,_ she thinks. The Doctor isn't just lying to her; he's lying to himself.

One never expects the self-loathing of their own hero, but she realizes it makes sense with him. The Doctor has endured a lot of heavy pasts, spanning lifetimes all encased in one body. He's lost loved ones and people he's cared for in only minutes of first meeting them.

All of that has weighed on him, a heavy gravity that consumes within.

Of course, she's being presumptuous. Madame Vastra erroneously named her the one person who knows the Doctor best. Clara doubts such a person exists, but she tries, and though some days she feels ragged, from dashing about the universe with the Doctor to quiet yet anxious dates with Danny, she squashes any doubts she should stay with the Doctor at all.

Her dubious thoughts fall by the wayside, but she feels them resurface ever so often. The Doctor sometimes starts out cold, unfeeling and out of touch. She wonders if he can really see her anymore when he looks at her, or if he's put on a show in the other body, pretending to see her - pretending to _like_ her.

The Doctor - brand new and no-nonsense, gives her everything frankly and in the most bald-faced ways. Clara isn't prepared for the starkness, and the lies are sometimes harder to detect.

But the Doctor still lies. He shapes his false landscapes differently now, but she can still see through the cloak of himself, of his secrets and self-deprecation. Maybe that's why he stays with her. Maybe that's why Vastra thinks she knows him best.

Clara doesn't really believe in herself to know the Doctor, but she feels she has to.

"Bonded," she says to him before one of their trips. The word is out of the blue, but it originates from a string of her spiraling thoughts.

"Sorry?" he says. "Didn't hear you." He's planning their next journey, whether they're breaking into banks, disrupting the chaos of prisons or saving a solar system of doomed orphans. He's pulling her away to something, minutes before another date with Danny, as usual.

She wonders if she should bother, but Clara really likes Danny. He's grounded and awkward and _human_, and not a leaf blowing through time and space. He's not a man that changes so readily, from a smiling, hugging, dashing hero to a dark, jumbled conundrum of an alien.

But the Doctor has always been an alien.

"I said _bonded_. I was thinking and talking about us," Clara says bravely. The Doctor doesn't like to talk about "us"; he only likes to pull her along to the next adventure and leave her breathless without a chance to really think about him, or see him beyond the surface of his oily, uncharted depths.

She's seen every incarnation of him before this, and though in echos her memories are hazy, she remembers each piece of the Doctor and how he's formed. This Doctor now - this version - is a brand new mesh that has risen of the ashes. It's as if the one she's always known has exploded into puzzle pieces, only to be haphazardly glued back together with the missing pieces hidden under a rug or lost underneath a sofa.

The Doctor takes advantage of her pause and says nothing. She can feel the tension between them thickening, and it only becomes noticeable when the TARDIS itself begins to wheeze in complaint.

They aren't even landing and it's squawking at her, and the Doctor looks around the center console briefly and meets Clara's eyes. She shakes her head.

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend her," Clara says.

"Force of habit," the Doctor says. "Now, what were you saying?"

"Nothin," Clara says, and she moves around the center console to his side. She furrows her brow and looks at the screen. "Where are we going next?"

"Mud baths, spa planet with over four thousand different types of rejuvenating mud, some of them even hallucinogenic."

"Really," Clara says intrigued. "Thought were going to do something illegal again."

She sees him pause, and then think about it. "Oh, we don't have to go to the mud planet."

"Well, I don't necessarily care about illegal, as long as it's not on Earth," Clara says with a light giggle. The Doctor smiles lightly, which pleases her as the tension starts to dull.

"Mud planet it is," he says quietly, and he pulls the appropriate levers.

"Doctor, why are you doing this? One minute I'm telling you that we're bonded - scary subject for you, I know - and then you to whisk me off on a vacation. What gives?" she asks.

"It's not scary, Clara; it's terrifying," he says, and continues, "But you need the rest, obviously. You look awful, living two lives. I keep forgetting that you're a companion I haven't kidnapped to spend all the time with me. You have that teaching thing too."

"You keep forgetting?" she scoffs. "Well, I guess it's the thought that counts, Doctor."

Sounds of the TARDIS fill the space between them, but something bothers Clara, and she feels she has to ask.

"What's so terrifying of being bonded to me, Doctor?" Clara asks, and he looks at her, his eyebrows crossing again at the displeasure of even accessing his safely stored emotions. Clara sighs, feeling herself meeting an inevitable roadblock with him again. "You can lie, if you must."

"But you would know it right away, wouldn't you?" he says bitingly. He turns toward her and she watches him keep his hands at his sides, though the energy within his frame betrays his own intentions. She knows he misses those delicate moments of contact. She knows that he even denies himself the pleasure of it, if out of self-hatred or fear. He doesn't want her to leave him, and he wants her to _see him_, so clearly as if he's never changed faces.

Yet, he doesn't want her to love him, and she assumes that he considers that one of his many mistakes - one he doesn't want to keep making. Though his heart, his impulses and his regard always betray him. Clara feels a surge of disappointment - almost pity that she wants to transform this in him. He's denying himself so much, and even though she is confident they are bonded, he denies sharing his feelings for her. Yet, much of his anger stems from this self-loathing and denial, and in the end it only makes him appear unkind, removed and always alone.

Clara knows he's not like this; she's not making excuses for him. The Doctor does well enough to make excuses on his own.

But he still gets jealous. He still tries to impress her and capture her heart with his cleverness and heroism. He still tries to prove himself to her; posturing like a silly, attention-craving child to have that last word, to impress everyone in the room despite the judgement he later reserves for himself.

"Right." She sighs again. "You don't have to say anything since I know when you're lying. If you're not ready…"

"I'm not," he quickly replies, but he seems to stare into her very depths, cautioning her and yet reaching out in kind. _The Doctor is his own contradiction, _Clara thinks, and even as infuriating as that can be, she finds that irresistible.

"You agree with me, though," Clara says, looking away from his intense stare. "We're bonded."

"Always."

She doesn't see him reach out his hand. She only feels his fingers lace into hers, tightening with that fierce longing that he denies himself now but knows he'll show her later. _When he's ready, _she thinks, and Clara can't help but exhale the hitch in her breath as his hand remains in hers. She moves forward, softly, lightly, and rests her head against his solid chest.

His scent is old, yet when she closes her eyes she wonders if this is the smell of the sea of space. Loving him, patiently waiting for him to come back to her, is just like watching the birth of a star.

"Doctor," she says against his shirt. He tenses, but he makes no motion to move. The touch must be agonizing for him, but Clara knows, it's also wonderful, and her warmth is what he truly needs.

"Yes," he says quietly, and his breath trickles like stardust against her hair.

"I know you had plans for us today to go to the mud planet - and we can do that some other time, but can we take a detour?" she asks. She raises her head, and she meets his clear eyes looking down at her, waiting.

"Where do you want to go today, Clara?" he asks, and her voice is as inviting as the first time he's asked her that.

"I wanna see the birth of twin stars," she asks, her smile widening. "Know any good ones?"

His small smile and nod gives her hope.

_That's why we're together, Doctor. We're bonded like twin stars._

END


	5. Impulse

AN: Written for the "favorable" prompt for the Summer Mini Challenge on LJ.

* * *

><p><span>Impulse<span>

At first, Clara doesn't know how to react when she catches the Doctor sprawled out on her bed staring at her ceiling. She sees his lips moving as he concentrates on something hard, his eyebrows furrowing from the labor. Seconds later he notices her arrival, lifts up his head, and she sees an unusual relief glow over his face.

"You're back! Finally."

"You're on my bed," she says, mystified and amused.

"It's the best place to count all those scuffs and marks. Did you know you have fifty different colored markings on your ceilings? I'm trying to place what they look like, some look like horses, some look like Adipose, some...well clouds are too generic, maybe a cat's brain…"

"How long have you been here?" Clara says, plopping down next to him on the bed. She rests her hands over her chest and looks up at the ceiling, squinting to see what the Doctor sees.

"Not long, five minutes or so…"

"You count and make shapes fast…"

He huffs, but she's certain the noise is partially a laugh.

"Should I tell you a story about Winston Churchill?" he asks out of the blue.

Clara giggles. "Where'd that come from?"

He points. "That mark over there looks like his head." Clara laughs and the Doctor smiles, and she turns her head to look into his eyes. Immediately, she realizes her good fortune.

The Doctor is in a favorable mood, so Clara takes advantage. It's about time too. She's seen him make jokes before, but they are dryer after his change. He's good at stories, seeming gruff as he tells them but following through with an interesting tale. After the bank heist, she and the Doctor and their heist companions Psi and Saibra enjoyed a good laugh while eating Chinese food, and Clara remembers how nice it felt to hear laughter in the TARDIS again.

"Yes, Doctor, tell the story about Winston Churchill," she says. He turns to her and grins.

"No date tonight?" he asks quickly.

"Not if you count the telly, and I gather your stories are more interesting than whatever is on the Beeb tonight."

He nods. "Good girl." He pauses, shifts gears, and the smile of nostalgia returns. "Well basically,

Winston Churchill and I go way back, and he such a serious fellow, there was a time I regretted giving him my number… anyway…"

Clara listens with intent, but she can't help but get lost in the way his face lights up as he tells the story. His words are coarse but amusing as he dives into the memory and explains. His pace speeds up, and she has to bend an ear to listen through that thick Scottish lilt. She can follow, but at moments she doesn't want to. She just wants to watch him, to see in his new yet old face that he's the same Doctor. It's taken time to adjust, but she sees it more in him everyday.

And when he moves his hands along with the story, she scoots closer to him on the bed, turning on her side and resting her head on her hands. She wants to grab his hand, entwine her fingers in his, and feel the closeness that is lost from the last face he wore.

The boyishness is still there. If anything, he's even more childish, as he finds nothing strange or awkward at lying on her bed, resting in the very same place where she sleeps some nights, longing for warmth -_ his_ warmth, and unable to let him go even after all the things they've been through.

"And then his face gets all pink like a big balloon, and he stomps his feet and his chins move with his anger and he says 'Doctor, I am Winston Churchill, do not presume I am beneath you in intelligence!' and the whole time I'm staring at the cream from his tea on his shirt lapel."

Clara laughs, and the Doctor chuckles with her. He stares at the ceiling, his mirth settling in the lines of his face. She looks at the creases of his eyes as he smiles, and she stares at him as he silently falls into his memories. "Yes, that one spot on the wall looks like old Chiny Churchill."

He turns to her, and when he meets her eyes, his smile fades slightly. "What is it?"

"I've missed this," Clara says.

"What?"

"You, laughing and telling jokes. You being happy," Clara says.

"I told you, Clara. I'm not much into laughing, so I don't know what you mean," he states.

"Oh, shut up, you just don't like other people laughing at your expense," she says.

"No, no, I don't usually like it all," he says.

"Then what were you doing just then, eh?" she asks.

"Telling a witty joke about Winston Churchill. _You,_ Clara, were laughing because you found it funny. And it was funny. Because I told it," he says.

Clara rolls her eyes. "You also said you don't like banter. Look at you, the King of Bantering!"

"Am not," he says defiantly.

"Pfff, and you also said that you don't like karaoke, yet I caught you humming along in the TARDIS the other day to some Penny Lane, scribbling on your boards."

"It was your imagination."

"You also said you don't like mimes, and while we were walking down that shopping district on the twin purple moons, you stared at that tree person mime for five minutes, completely entranced. I even saw you grin."

"Not me. Doesn't sound like me," he protests.

"You are an idiot. You say one thing but mean another. Your mum must have told you not to touch the stove and you probably went over and put your whole hand on it."

"I didn't!" he says, a little too loudly. Clara laughs, and she almost hates that she's spoiled his good mood by the aggravation on his face.

"Aww, I'm sorry Doctor," she says, still giggling. "I'm terrible for putting you in a bad mood. Carry on and count the spots on my ceiling."

"I've told you, I've already done it," he says. "I was waiting for you to come back from your school...thingy to go somewhere."

"Then why are you here telling me Winston Churchill stories?" she asks.

"I got distracted," he says, looking at her. She feels at a loss for words as he looks her over, his stare staying longer than is comfortable. "This bed…"

"Yeah?"

"Very comfortable…" he says. "I usually don't like beds."

"Among other things, apparently. See how we're changing your mind about things. Apples, yogurt, bantering…"

He purses his lips and Clara giggles. He's trying very hard to be cross with her, but his eyes say something differently. He enjoys bantering with her. He enjoys waiting for her in her room, doing silly mindless things until that moment she comes home. He enjoys filling those distracting minutes and hours of her life.

The Doctor is changing his mind about a lot of things, but one of the things she can't wrap her head around is how he truly feels about her.

"So, wanna go to another planet? Whole planet made of candy trees and chocolate rivers."

"Sounds like Willy Wonka."

"It is. I was actually going to take you to a planet that's enslaving alien citizens and keeping them for food. Thought you would like a little heroic adventure after a mind numbing day at that school."

"Well, English can kind of be like an adventure, at least the grading papers part. No," she says. "No, teaching English in this grade is more like a nightmare."

"Very well, a palette cleanser then. Let's go save some people," he says, smiling at her. The thrill of adventure is prevalent in his eyes. He's ready, but he isn't moving from her bed.

"I'm ready," she says, not moving either.

"Alright, let's go," he says, shifting slightly sideways on her bed but still staring at her.

He's about to leap up when she catches his hand. He starts, and she feels him tense and then go still. Her fingers entwine with his, and she pulls his arm back down on the bed. She stares into his eyes, searching through all that humor that was just on the surface, now receding back into the cold iron darkness that he encases around himself. Clara wants to catch it before it's gone again, falling back into his stark words and aloof demeanor.

"Wait," she says quickly, as if she can stop him from shielding himself again from her tenderness.

"I'm waiting," he says, a little too breathlessly.

"I mean it, when I said I like you like this, happy and laughing and in a good mood. I meant it, Doctor," Clara says. "I know… changing was hard for you. I think I know better than anyone, and you know that I'm here…"

"Yes," he says quickly.

"But I don't want you to change too much, Doctor. You don't have to. Not for your mistakes. Not for me."

"Clara, Clara, don't be so…"

She leans in, tethered to an unexpected impulse, and she tastes his lips, halting his words. She lingers, her lips a breath away from his, and she can feel the strong exhale he takes from her sudden kiss. He doesn't move, doesn't lean back, and she can feel his gaze through heavy eyes. She braves another kiss, slow and steady, taking in the shapes of his lips, his mouth, his hesitant tongue.

"Clara... " The word comes almost like a scolding, but he doesn't seem too cross, not as much as she thinks he would be. He seems bewildered, unable to form the right words to reject her.

Only this time he can't. He can't reject something that he truly wants. He can tell her that he doesn't want her, but like a lot of things lately, he can easily change his mind.

But Clara wonders if he's ever disliked those things in the first place. Maybe he's in denial. Maybe… he thinks if he tells himself he doesn't like them, he will believe it.

If he tells himself he doesn't care about Clara, maybe she'll break his hearts, teach him a lesson, and remind him that he cannot truly have the things he covets. He's made too many mistakes.

There are no rewards for his many mistakes.

"See, told you," Clara says, breaking the tension in the room. "I told you that you really like the things you say you don't like. Bantering, laughing…" She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his. "And me…"

He squeezes her hand and settles closer.

They move even slower out of her bed, then out of her room, and onto their next adventure.

Together.

END


	6. Density

AN: thanks to Phoenixdragon for the beta. Warning for Mature situations.

Summary: Clara feels a pressure inside her that only the Doctor can cure.

* * *

><p><span>Density<span>

She was running out of time.

It felt that way every moment she spent with the Doctor.

_It was silly, _Clara mused, because he had a Time Machine and even when she'd been hiding her travels from Danny, she could go anywhere and be back in time. She could manage, though she felt her time with the Doctor was wearing thin.

She couldn't explain it. Was she going to die or was the Doctor finally going to tell her to stay put, stop traveling with him and never come back? Did the Doctor ever reject his companions?

Regardless, she had to stay with him and soak up every inch of the adventures he'd allowed her. Danny couldn't understand it. He was content to stay put and enjoy a festival or talk about the new season of whatever reality shows he was watching. He'd seemed to accept her need to travel with the Doctor - he'd even called her an adrenaline junkie once.

He just didn't understand it.

_But that wasn't the problem, _Clara thought.

The problem was that when she was with the Doctor, she didn't think about Danny and she only saw the Doctor. Even in the beginning when she'd gotten used to his new body and face (his new personality too) she'd seen some of her old Doctor within him. She'd seen that he was the same as he was before - the same man she fancied - the same madman for whom she'd dropped everything in her life so she could be with him.

As much as he denied it, as much as he'd shown obvious regret, she once wanted him to be her boyfriend. Clara knew the Doctor was beyond such a human title. He could play the role, as he had done once, but the Doctor was so much more.

"Do you love him?" Danny had asked her, and she'd lied of course. She'd diverted and she'd tried to block her feelings.

Clara was most definitely in love with the Doctor, more than Danny could ever understand. She loved Danny too (maybe); she told herself she did. She knew it was easy to love Danny. It was easier than loving the Doctor.

Perhaps that was why she felt the pressure - that she needed to stay with him, be with the Doctor even though he wasn't her boyfriend. She loved him and he cared about her, but he was bonkers without her. Or, at least she liked to believe that.

"It's a silver string of Fate," the Doctor had told her, bringing her out of her daze. They'd just visited a planet in the 60th century of somewhat technical aliens that still believed devoutly in spiritual love. "They find their mates through lifetimes. Reincarnation - I guess is the human concept. They call it the silver string of Fate." He explained the ritual to her and Clara couldn't focus, thinking of her own string of Fate to the Doctor. Through his lifetimes, something she didn't always remember, but she dreamed about it. She'd pressured his last incarnation to tell her and fill the gaps.

The Doctor had known echoes of her throughout his life - and she was born to save him.

It was fate and it was entirely romantic. No wonder he thought of her as more than a companion at one time.

Clara was surely convinced he still thought that way about her, but the Doctor was holding himself back. He was too guarded (maybe from self-loathing), or maybe he knew she was on borrowed time with him too.

Maybe by rejecting her, he didn't have to get hurt.

That certainly didn't stop her from wanting him, from loving him. That didn't stop her from pushing him - gently at first - but she would get to the middle of his feelings for her. Even as her instincts screamed at her, telling her she had such little time with him, she would understand him - all of him, before her time was up.

* * *

><p>"You cannot be that dense, Doctor," she scolded him. He'd commented on her shoes. They were higher than the last ones.<p>

"You wear higher shoes, you'll tower over P.E.," he said with a scoff.

She smiled at him wickedly. "Maybe I don't want to reach Danny," she said, meeting his eyes for a long moment before turning back to her mirrors. She saw his mouth open slightly, looking at her with scrutiny.

"Well, how do I look?" He'd seen the tall shoes already, and knowing just how long he'd stared at her as she finished getting ready, he'd noticed everything else. She was wearing a gold dress that shimmered when she moved in the low light. Her hair was cropped again, and her eyelashes long and dark. She turned around, and pulled up her cream colored gloves over her elbows. "You said you'd take me to the 1942 premiere of _Casablanca_ in New York City."

"Yes, I did," he said, watching her with few words. "You're very shiny this time."

"It's a shiny Hollywood time, all gold and glitter," she said. "You're wearing that?"

"What's wrong with this?" he asked, and she couldn't say there was anything wrong. He'd worn his black suit again with the jacket and red interior. He still refused to wear a bow tie, but he wore a simple black tie with a white dotted pattern that looked like stars.

She smiled. "Nothing, I guess."

"Come on, then," he said, turning around toward the TARDIS as she followed him inside. He turned to her when they stopped at the center console. "You think you can handle a quiet night for once? There will be no planets blowing up or people to save. No moral dilemma, well, not beyond Hollywood morality of the 40s…"

"It's perfect. I've been sort of… itching for a quiet evening out, if you can believe it," she said, staring down at the console.

"Oh, well, not used to quiet," The Doctor said. "Seems that would be something better for P.E."

"Oh, shut up," she said, swatting his arm. She met his eyes and smiled. "You forget who has the time machine."

He pulled a lever down harshly, still locked with her eyes. "Oh, I never forget."

* * *

><p>They'd returned to the TARDIS laughing. The <em>Casablanca <em>premiere was definitely not quiet, as Clara managed to charm their way into after parties. The Doctor didn't approve at first, but he'd found a way to be occupied.

"I can't believe Madeleine Lebeau was taken with you! She wouldn't let you out of her claws," Clara said giggling.

"Is it so hard to believe? I got engaged to Marilyn Monroe once!"

"Haha, I know that story. You've told it to me at least a hundred times," Clara said, rolling her eyes. "You have a way with the ladies, Doctor, even if you don't want to admit it. And don't look at me with those angry eyebrows and that sour face."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, and Clara's laughter intensified.

"That was lovely though. Wow, Bogie is just so handsome in person," she said, as she plopped down on the chaise sofa next to the Doctor's bookshelf. She put her feet up and kicked off her shoes. "What a man, so much class."

She stared at the TARDIS ceiling as the Doctor said nothing. He worked the TARDIS controls and she supposed he was taking her back home.

"Doctor," she called for him and fell into a pause. For a moment she didn't know what to say. She wanted to ask him so much. He made no noise for her to continue.

"Have you ever rejected a companion? I mean, have you ever traveled with someone and then left them - because you were cross, or because they were so horrible and they surprised you and you just couldn't stand them anymore?" she asked.

She sat up slowly and he was already staring at her with a strange expression.

"Why do you ask?"

"I just thought... "

"I choose my friends very carefully, Clara," the Doctor simply said.

"So you've never made a mistake?" she asked, getting up from the chaise and heading over to him. She stood by his side at the console. She looked up at him as she remembered she'd taken the heels off - the heels that she wore so she could reach him.

She didn't know what she'd been thinking. Maybe 1940s glamor and glitz was supposed to bewitch them and allow her to finally push the Doctor in revealing how he really felt.

"What have you done, Clara, that you would think that of me?" he asked, his tone low and almost dangerous. His words sent a shiver down her spine.

"Nothing - well, I don't know. I have just felt lately, that our time is running out," she answered honestly and she was amazed at herself. She wasn't usually this honest with him. She felt she was more like_ him_: guarded and mysterious.

"That's silly, how could time be running out?" he asked as he tilted his head, almost to scold her like a father. "It's up to you if you no longer want to travel with me, Clara."

"No! It's not like that. It's just...nothing," she said, and she turned from him back to the chaise.

"You must be tired. You're not making any sense," he said. "I'll get you home."

"Yeah, yeah," she said and when she fell back onto the chaise, she stared at the TARDIS ceiling before she fell asleep. She woke up to him rousing her, directing her from his chaise to her own bed. She'd flung her shoes to the floor, groaning as she stretched out on her own bed. She looked up to see the Doctor watching her and she'd give anything to know what was floating around in his head.

She furrowed her brow at him.

"You used to kiss me," she said and she saw his eyebrows lift in surprise.

"Here," she said, pointing to her forehead. "And I always felt safe."

The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but if he did, she'd fallen asleep before she'd heard it.

* * *

><p>Clara felt like someone was watching her. It was the strangest feeling, but it was almost like God watching her, in a way. Some all-seeing unknown pulling back the fabric of space, peering down at her with one beady eye.<p>

When she felt this way, the pressure in her body seemed to increase, like a serpent coiling its way around her bones.

She needed the Doctor more than ever. She needed his adventures, his Time Machine and his history. She needed his presence. This wasn't an adrenaline rush. This wasn't just love.

Clara was becoming obsessed and she knew she was wrong. She knew it was silly, and if the Doctor knew, she wondered if he'd be repulsed.

He hadn't seemed to notice; his behavior remained constant - distant sometimes and dense all the rest. She'd even made comments and braved flirting, but he seemed oblivious to it. Or, he rather thought he was above it. She couldn't explain. She'd come home to Danny after one of her adventures and her body felt like it was blazing with fire.

_Poor Danny_, she'd thought. She'd thought of only one way to relieve the pressure - if she could - and she'd taken advantage of her boyfriend.

Danny didn't complain, but he was bewildered by her behavior. She was careful to guard her true feelings, but she had to let them all loose. Frustration overwhelmed her, and when she was underneath Danny's body, she longed for the Doctor through the dark. She would even take him yelling at her - _anything_.

Danny was sweet, but it wasn't the same.

Her body may be satiated, but her heart was twisted and warped. Her head spun from the odd unresolved feelings. She felt like an alien in her own skin.

As Danny slept next to her peacefully, Clara tossed and turned in her bed, feeling like a rubber band, pulled so far out that it was about to snap.

* * *

><p>Every time Clara saw the Doctor come for her, she felt the pressure inside her subside. Time still seemed to dry out around her, but at least with the Doctor by her side, she felt like an appeased god.<p>

Something was still watching her, coils still gripped her bones, but at least with the Doctor - in the TARDIS through the universe - Clara was happy. Worries fell away, and she dove into the moment.

When the Doctor's life was threatened, Clara panicked.

He'd taken her into a warzone again. He'd hated it and he was resolved to let the two sides of the planet keep blasting at each other until he'd rescued the child.

The child's name was Amy, and if the child's tears didn't move him, her namesake certainly did.

Amy wanted to rescue her mother. Her mother had been a diplomat on the one side (which the Doctor called Idiot Blue Side), and she had tried to call for peace. In a misunderstanding, Idiot Red Side fired, taking Amy's mother hostage. Now their talks for peace were halted, and Amy's mother was rotting in a cell, which was inside a tall abandoned structure.

The Doctor promised to break in and free Amy's mother, while trying to outwit Idiot Red Side. Clara insisted on coming, but the Doctor wanted her to stay with Amy - mostly because if he didn't come back, she could at least take the TARDIS home.

The idea of the Doctor not coming back scared her to her bones.

Clara waited while holding Amy and the night seemed to stretch like a yawn into forever. When the Captain of the Blue Side's military came for her, he handed her a walkie talkie.

"Is this the woman called Clara Oswald?" asked the voice on the other line.

"It is," Clara said boldly.

"I'm very sorry to inform you, but your friend, the Doctor? He broke our treaty rules, and he ventured into forbidden territory. He also tried to free a prisoner here which is a terrible crime. I am just letting his next of kin know that we had to convict him of his crimes." The voice paused, and Clara felt rage and sadness building inside her. "I'm very sorry, but your Doctor is dead."

She screamed and the voice on the other line chuckled maniacally. When the feed went dark, tears streamed down her face, she dashed toward enemy lines. Several people tried to stop her, but they could not catch her.

She ran through brambles of an alien forest with only her crying to drown out the sounds of wildlife creeping around her. Blackness assailed her senses and she wondered where she was really running to, and if she'd ever make it to the Doctor without being killed herself. She had some small hope the Doctor was alive, but her heart and head were out of sync, and all she could think about was about her loss: about how she had done everything to save him and keep him alive. She'd begged the Time Lords to save him, dammit - and now he was gone after one stupid skirmish on some unknown planet? Clara didn't accept that. She had to see his body. She had to yell at him and hope if he regenerated he'd know her again. She hated to start over. She didn't want to have to get used to him all over again.

Not when she loved this version of him so much… not when she'd almost left him the moment he'd transformed and then changed her mind because _he'd_ asked her to.

She refused to accept he'd change again without telling her the truth, without her knowing how he'd really felt.

When the TARDIS suddenly appeared in front of her, halting her in her tracks, she gasped. (She hadn't even realized the time machine had gone…)

The door flung open, and the Doctor poked his head out. Instantly, he complained. "Idiots. Liars."

Clara's mouth opened and she stood still, staring at the man she'd thought was dead. Behind him, a woman leapt out of the TARDIS and ran after her daughter. Their reunited and happy voices were background noise to the thoughts screaming in Clara's head.

The Doctor had almost died. The Doctor had almost left her here. _Alone._

The man - no, the stupid alien madman she was in love with - almost left her again. Pressure tightened like a dense nova within her chest and she let out a sob.

"Clara…" he said, looking at her as if she'd grown two heads.

"I thought… I thought…"

He nodded, but seemed annoyed. "I thought you had more faith in me."

She ran to him, and he tensed as she flung her arms around him. "Hey, hey, the hugging."

"Shut up!" She said through tears and she looked up at him, wishing she'd had the heels again. He looked down into her eyes, moved by her reaction.

"Shh, shh," he said, as he wiped a tear away. She sniffled and when he made a motion to release her, she arched up and captured his lips. He stiffened immediately, but he did not fight her off.

She broke away from him harshly and shot him a look that she wasn't even sorry. Her voice was trembling steel as she scolded him.

"You cannot die on me, do you hear? I don't care if it's someone lying."

"Yeah about that," he said,and then he paused as he lost the thought. He watched her through a furrowed brow.

"Wait a minute, what did you just do?" He pulled away and pointed at her. "No, no, Clara, oh Clara."

"Come off it, I was scared!" she said.

"Pff," he said, making a face of disbelief.

"Even if I did die, I would have regenerated," he said, meeting her face.

"I _know_," she said, choking back a sob. She watched his reaction to her words, and he seemed incredulous and maybe even a little pleased. "Come on, let's get off this planet."

"Hey! Aren't you going to help us end this long war?" Amy's mother shouted after them. Clara and the Doctor turned their attention to the Idiot Blue Side's people looking at them desperately.

"Clara, I don't think I want to…"

"I wouldn't blame you…"

"But I can't turn away," he said, and Clara sighed.

"Then you have to do it," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "But you have to do it your way, Doctor."

He looked down at her hand, taking in the gravity of her words. "Very well. But you're right, Clara." He turned to the crowd and immediately his no-nonsense demeanor and patronizing shouting shocked them into dutiful silence. "Listen up, you lot, we're going to make some peace, and you're going to do exactly what I tell you to do!"

* * *

><p>After making peace on the planet, he'd brought her back to her apartment and followed her to the bedroom. She plopped down and stared at the ceiling.<p>

"Doctor, there's something wrong with me," she said.

"Hrmmph," he said. "I hadn't really noticed."

She sat up annoyed.

"Because you haven't wanted to! You want me to think you're dense, that you don't know what's happening to me, but you do, and you're not doing anything about it. You save countless people every day and you can't even see me - right in front of you." She plopped back down into her pillow. "I wouldn't blame you if you left me. I should have stopped this long ago, like when Danny asked me, but I can't."

They fell into a heavy silence and Clara sighed. "He called me an adrenaline junkie, and I wish I was that."

"What are you then?"

She turned to him, meeting his intense stare. "I just want to be your companion. That's it. I just want to be by your side." She watched his expression and as he moved closer to the side of her bed, she continued. "I don't want to be your wife. I don't want to be the companion that leaves someday because she's had enough and wants to settle down. I don't want to be the companion that you can't save."

"You can't control the latter part, Clara. But you will want to stop someday," the Doctor said. "They all do - well, most do. Most of them… we could have gone on forever, but maybe it was better not to. You're human; you get older. You get tired."

"Not me, and that's the problem, isn't it? I never get tired of you. I never get tired of seeing the stars."

"How is that a problem, then?" He'd made his way to the side of her bed and she patted the spot next to her. He hesitated, but with pleading eyes he conceded and sat next to her on her bed.

Turning to him, she continued, "It's not a problem for you. You're good at shutting things off, avoiding things, and convincing yourself someone is better off…"

"Better off…"

"Without you," she said.

"That's not what's wrong with you, Clara," the Doctor said.

"Then what is?"

"I don't know yet," he said and he reached out a hand and placed it on her forehead. He led her back down on her pillow, pulling his hand away as he rose. "Get some rest."

"There, you do admit something is wrong with me, that what I'm feeling isn't right?"

"What you're feeling?" He turned back to her and she longed for him to sit by her side again. He just hovered.

"I told Danny I loved him," Clara said.

"Several times," the Doctor droned.

"No, listen, I told him I loved him, but...Doctor, you're not making this fair. I've told him I've loved you too," Clara said. "But not in that way...but, it's not true, is it? That's why you wanted to let me down easily."

"I wasn't letting_ you_ down easily, Clara," the Doctor quickly clarified.

"I know," she said, looking away. "At least it's easy for one of us."

A long heavy silence fell between them before Clara said. "It's not easy for you either, is it?" She looked at him as he backed away. "It's as hard for you, too!"

"Stop," he said, almost hissing through his teeth.

"Oh come off it!" Clara jumped up from her bed toward him, backing him against her door. "I've seen the way you look at me. I'm not imagining things."

"No," he said softly and she saw his face darken, like he wanted nothing to do with this conversation.

"I've been pushing you for months now, trying to get a read on you, why you keep me around! I'm not just your friend, Doctor! I've seen you through your lifetimes…"

"That you don't remember…"

"I remember! Piece by piece they come back to me in recurring dreams. My head is about to explode I know so much, lived so much! I feel as though I've lived as long as you and each lifetime, I loved you. No wonder I'm a mess. No wonder I can meet a man and then fall for him in minutes! I'm broken in that… I love too easily because I was born to!" She flung up her hands and sighed. "No wonder I feel so close to you I can't stand it...No wonder you can leave me on the moon, abandon me and shake my faith in you - and I still come back."

"Clara…"

"I am your perfect companion," Clara said, feeling defeated as realization dawned on her. The pressure she was experiencing, the attraction to the Doctor, it all felt fabricated and forced. She felt like someone was pulling her strings, that she wasn't free. Just a puppet - created to please and serve the Doctor.

"I don't even feel real anymore," Clara said. "But that's the point, right? I only feel real when I'm with you."

Stepping closer, and the Doctor reached out and grabbed her flailing hands. He pulled her close and she gasped as he made the move without complaint. Bringing her against his chest, his presence seemed to soothe her and she gave into it - no matter how much she doubted herself and even her own existence.

"You're real, Clara. You're so real," the Doctor said, his voice sounding like a soothing lullaby.

"You can't leave me off," she said. "You can't let me go like the others."

"No," he said.

"Why do you keep me, Doctor?" Clara asked.

"You've already figured it out, clever impossible girl. Don't make me say it," he said softly, layered with his usual gruffness.

She leaned into him, pulling her hands from his grasp and resting arms at her sides. She looked up at him, studying his reactions. He froze, unsure what she would do next. Slowly, she rocked on the balls of her feet and then she arched up, kissing him again - softer this time, testing his taste, his permissions. He let her and her tongue slipped past his lips.

His once rigid hands slowly and gently cupped her face, sliding through her hair and cradling her skull. His presence and scent seemed to blaze around her, and as he held her head, she saw all her echoes through his lives burst through her mind like a brand new star. All of them, each and every Doctor, slid back into her memories, fresh and whole and coming home.

When he began to pull away, she grabbed his arms, pulling him toward her. "Don't. Please."

"You don't know what you're asking of me," he said, a desperation coating his voice and the lilt of his accented warning sent a shudder through her nerves. "I don't think… I won't be able to stop."

She pulled him against her - harder, feeling the universe, the planets, the gravity of wonder within him that she'd always desired.

She didn't just want planets. She didn't even really want the time machine. Clara just wanted the Doctor.

"Come, please," she said, her fingers searching heat within his clothes. She still kissed him in sporadic waves, something he was now more inclined to indulge her. Kiss by kiss she was peeling away layers and he was being all too accommodating, even when his own resolve was barely restrained.

A dark blur consumed them as she finally pulled him on top of her on the bed, and she had to remind herself to breathe when his lips had found purchase on her neck. Clever hands had removed her clothes and she felt the beating of two hearts against her breasts. She sighed as she felt a different warmth, his slow, burgeoning desire that gravitated toward her precious heat.

Long fingers mapped her like a star system, delighting in angles and soft curves. She wanted him to take back all those rude comments he'd said about her being built like a man, all those moments when he'd been too dense to realize she'd been flirting with him (or even stupidly), trying to make him jealous.

He sighed against her lips and she kissed him again, moaning as those long fingers of his had found something better, pressing deeply inside her.

"Doctor…" she whispered.

"Clara, there's nothing wrong with you. It's not what you think…" he whispered between their kisses. Her fingers fluttered through his short hair, and he pulled back for a moment to take her in her form, moved by the ardor on her face.

"What is it then…?" she asked, not caring where this conversation was going. She arched her hips into him and he groaned.

"Ha," he said, seemingly forgetting his train of thought. "This is…" She pulled him down, kissing him fiercely into silence.

"Doctor, save me; save me like you do all the rest," she said, and he pulled her into his arms. He held her, shifting them and slowly teasing her.

She couldn't wait any longer, but the Doctor seemed to hold all of time.

"Please," she said, the pressure was so fierce she thought it'd turn into a monster and eat her. She needed release. She needed the Doctor, and she needed to feel relief from the dense darkness coiling inside her.

"Just remember," he said, kissing her forehead tenderly before finding her lips again. "I did this all for you, but I'm still not your boyfriend."

"No, you're my Doctor," Clara said, and he'd plunged into her, making her whimper and weep.

She moved automatically and he matched her pace like a long, cool wave building up like a tide under a full moon. He brought her higher and higher, the presence of him inside her, burning and full. And Clara felt more than just him, she felt his lifetimes again; and as the light flickered in her room, she saw his face almost change, back to the man she fell for, returning into the Doctor she loved now.

Tightly she wrapped her arms around him, moving her hips, drawing him deeper inside. She delighted in the little noises he'd make of his own pleasure, a rare melody that settled within her ears. She'd probably never hear their noises again. The Doctor must have a purpose in taking her. The Doctor must have a plan.

Or could he really love her and feel something for her?

She felt him tense and with him he brought the stars. They called out together, feeling the waves crash within them, almost boiling and coming down to blanket them in a warm misty haze. Curling in his tired arms, she rested her hand over his chest and snuggled close. She felt his lips on her forehead as he nestled against her hair.

"Clara, my Clara," he said lazily. "What have you made me do."

"Made you?" she laughed a little. "You didn't seem to complain."

"I should have," he said. "I should have complained very loudly."

"It would have only made me want you more," she said and she heard him cough awkwardly. "Oh yes, even more."

* * *

><p>"Clara, Clara!" The Doctor was calling her name, but Clara couldn't see him. All she could see was a black misty cloud, surrounding her like a thick miasma. Did she fall into a gaseous planet? Was she consumed by alien pollution?<p>

"Something's got hold of you, but I want you to remain calm," he said. She heard the Sonic Screwdriver. The Doctor swore under his breath. "Our psychic link managed to disarm it - and now it's coming loose. Don't worry, Clara. I'll save you."

"Doctor," she said weakly.

"Don't talk. An alien has got you. Some gaseous vampire. It feeds off of people's history with others," he said and Clara sensed an awkward pause. "I'm sorry, Clara. I shouldn't have done that to you."

"What?" she asked again, but the darkness was like a heavy anvil on her chest. She couldn't see anything, consumed by the gray miasma. What was happening to her? Was everything else a dream? No, couldn't be.

"You...and I," she began.

"Sh! Shut it!"

Anger fueled her, but immediately it was zapped by whatever was holding her hostage, shackled by an angry spirit that only wanted to feed off her history with the Doctor. Why that? She hoped that he would explain. Through the darkness she squinted, trying to find him. She saw his form, poised over her and the light of the Sonic her beacon among the clouds.

"You, out! Clara is protected!" The density seemed to dissipate and the Doctor's form was becoming clearer.

"I'll give you one chance to live, to give up and let her go," he said. "If you don't, I'll be forced to destroy you."

Clara wanted him to destroy it. What good could this thing do on its own?

Suddenly, she wanted to scream. She didn't know what the Doctor was doing, but it felt as though claws were pulling something out of her, stripping her bones raw of its marrow. When she managed to open her eyes, she still felt the pain, but she could see the Doctor. She squealed from the intrusion, and she panicked. The Doctor quickly set his hands on her shoulders, settling her down.

"It's alright; it's gone," he soothed.

"Did you?" she asked, and by the grim look in his eyes, she knew he'd had to destroy the life-form. It already weighed heavily on him, as most decisions like this did.

She sprang forward and hugged him, and unlike his usual demeanor, he embraced her back, hugging her close.

"Clara, I'm so sorry," he said.

"Why are you?" Her words stalled when she saw his expression. Oh. So none of that had been a dream. "We…"

He pulled away gently and she saw him smooth out nonexistent wrinkles on his jacket. He look displeased, but more than anything she guessed he was cross at himself.

"I had to form a strong psychic link with you; I suppose I could have tried a different way, but time was running out and the creature was taking over. The opportunity presented itself for us to bond…"

"It wasn't that bad," Clara said, trying to lighten the mood. "Monster or not, I always wanted to."

"I - Yes," he said, and she wondered which part of her statement the "Yes" was for. Once again, the Doctor admitted to nothing even though the emotions were plain on his face.

She was going to suggest a second time without gas vampires, but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. The Doctor was clearly still processing his actions. Clara supposed he hadn't done that with companions very often - if at all.

"Come on, tell me about this monster. How long was it in me?"

"It's hard to say. It was using your emotions to get to me and your memories of going through my time-stream. The longer a person's history, the bigger the meal. And with you being human, your history and time travel was an unusual morsel," the Doctor explained.

"So you knew," she said.

"No - I just knew something was wrong. That you were… not really yourself."

"But I was," Clara said. "I didn't feel anything different. Except for the pressure."

"Yes, that was the parasite part. A parasitic gas - interesting," he said, his attention trailing away. Clara supposed it was just as well; she wondered if they'd ever discuss what happened between them again.

"Doctor, just so things don't stay weird between us, maybe we should talk about what happened. I mean, I do have a boyfriend, so don't you think it's weird for me?" she said.

He turned to her, surprised. "Is it? Or is that what you really wanted?"

Clara tilted her head and frowned. "Of course that's what I wanted, but you're the one who doesn't."

"I never said that," he said. "It's just what's best. I'm no good for anyone, and such things never end well."

"You would say that and I knew you'd write off yourself. You never allow yourself to be happy, do you? At least not now," Clara said.

"What does that mean? Because I look old?"

"You said that, not me," Clara said, crossing her arms. "I was perfectly fine with your face that first time."

"First time?" he asked, looking slightly shocked at her audacity to assume there would be a second time. He started to walk away, and Clara followed, assuming he was returning to the TARDIS. He did, however, have to get one more quip in against her. "I don't think your boyfriend would like hearing that."

"No, he wouldn't," Clara agreed and she slipped her arm through his. He tensed slightly, but after a moment, she felt comfortable and he didn't pull away.

"I suppose I was wrong," Clara said, and the Doctor scoffed. "I mean, about the gas vampires. I thought there might not have been any use to them, and it's horrible you had to destroy it, but it did get you to admit something."

The Doctor shot her a dark look and she got the feeling he was finished with this conversation. She smiled sweetly at him.

"I wonder if there are any more of those gas vampires out there," she asked, but the Doctor didn't reply.

He knew exactly what Clara was implying.

* * *

><p>Clara felt the TARDIS land, and when she followed the Doctor out the door she was home. After a ride back of small quips and uncomfortable looks, Clara wondered just how much her relationship with the Doctor had changed after the encounter with the gas entity.<p>

He turned back into the TARDIS after she exited and she met his eyes with a smile. She wanted to assure him as much as she could that nothing really was changing between them. She loved him just as she always had. Maybe they both had to admit it to themselves, but at least it was open.

She was scared and hopeful, but she couldn't imagine how he was feeling or what he wanted to do from here.

"Coming back for dinner tomorrow?" Clara asked.

"Ah, yes, right," he said. "You're cooking?"

"You are. You know my track record," she laughed. He watched her for a moment, which seemed like an eternity. Clara felt the heat of impatience, so she leaned forward and snogged him again quickly and cheerfully.

"We're doing that then," the Doctor commented as she pulled away.

"We are," she said firmly. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably.

"Won't P.E. have a problem with it?" he asked her, though he sounded slightly smug with himself, like he had won a great battle and was itching to dance around and admit that he was right about Danny all along, whatever that meant.

"You don't worry about Danny. I'll take care of it," Clara said.

His eyebrows lifted, as if he doubted her. "Will you?"

"Shut it," she said.

He sighed heavily, and she noticed how tired he looked, possibly from the gas vampires but maybe even more at finally admitting the feelings he'd been trying to hide from her.

_He can't distance himself from me anymore,_ she thought.

He shifted, turning to leave back into his TARDIS.

"Doctor, see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Yep, tomorrow," he said, waving a hand.

"Oh and Doctor?" Clara called to him, and he stopped and shifted his gaze back to her bright smile.

"You know you really don't have a vote in this right? Now that I know," Clara said, tilting her head and gauging his reaction.

Unexpectedly, he smiled softly at her, and there was a wickedness gleaming in his eyes.

"Yes, boss," he said finally and his words hit her, creating a tightness in her throat.

She didn't expect him to get in the last word or to frazzle her like that. As the TARDIS dematerialized from her flat, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

It was going to be a long and lonely night.

END


End file.
